Seven and Thrice
by sillysillypanda
Summary: They're the two most magical numbers in the Western Wizarding World. One chapter for each year they shared in Hogwarts. One chapter for each time they defied the Dark Lord. Ten chapters for James and Lily (and Severus, at least a little), because sometimes the saddest stories are the most beautiful.
1. Year One

**Disclaimer: HP is JK Rowling's. If you recognize it, it isn't mine.**

Year One

_In which first impressions last_

"What are you _doing_, Evans?" he exclaims as he grabs her wrist and yanks her back from the seat she was about to take in the dungeons, "Listen, we don't sit with _Slytherins. _They're the enemy!"

James is trying to be helpful, he really is. He knows that Evans is a Muggle born, so she wouldn't know about those unwritten rules of Hogwarts. Rule Number One is that Gryffindors don't associate with Slytherins. Ever. He's just trying to look out for his housemate, keep her from making a fool of herself and doing something she'll regret. Chivalry and all that. He's not sure what chivalry is, exactly, only that it's got something to do with being nice to girls, and that it's one of the key traits of Gryffindors. Evans is a girl (he supposes), and James is most certainly a Gryffindor. He has to be nice to her. So really, she ought to be falling into his arms in gratitude, rather than glaring at him right now, fire practically shooting out of her eyes as yanks her hand out of his grasp and balls it into a fist.

"The _enemy?_" she repeats, as if she can't believe the idiocy she is hearing. It's only her first week at Hogwarts, and, as a Muggle-born, Lily has already heard a lot of small-minded and prejudiced thinking, but this might just take the cake, "Are you serious, Potter?"

She's spent the entire week looking forward to Potions, their first class with the Slytherins. A whole three hour block to sit with Sev and catch up, tell him about all the things she's seen in the last seven days, how Hogwarts is as wonderful as he always knew it would be. And Potter has to go and ruin everything. Naturally.

She's furious, and even an eleven-year-old James Potter instinctively knows better than to tangle with a furious Lily Evans. He hesitates, just for a second, and Lily takes the opportunity to attack.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do." she barks at him, planting her fists onto her hips, "If I want to sit next to my _best friend_, then I jolly well will. You're not the boss of me, so _go away._"

Severus, who had been sitting quietly, can't fight down a small smile and a warm tingle spreading through his stomach at the emphasis Lily places on the phrase 'best friend.' James only sees the smile, and mistakes the intention. How dare that slimy little Slytherin smirk at him? He makes a note to make Snivellus pay, later, when Slughorn isn't just beginning to putter into the room.

"Fine, Evans," James scowls, "Last time I ever try to help _you_."

"Who would want _your _help?" she shoots back, as she plops herself firmly into her seat. _That arrogant, idiotic __toe-rag_, she thinks to herself.

"Ungrateful, idiotic _girl_," James mutters as he stalks to the back of the dungeon where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have been watching the debacle unfold. They are most decidedly smirking at him, or Sirius is, at least.

"Girls," James says exasperatedly as he takes his seat between Sirius and Peter, "Remind me next time I try to do something nice that chivalry is bloody overrated."

A/N Reviews are much appreciated! :)


	2. Year Two

__**Disclaimer: HP belongs to JKRowling.**

Year Two

_In which opinions change (for some of them, anyways)_

James scowls at his distorted reflection in the tarnished trophy as he scrubs at it with a toothbrush. The administration long since learned that separate detentions were the only option when it comes to dealing with the Marauders, but James doesn't understand how he is always the one with the worst detention assignment. Sirius gets to skin Boomslang for Slughorn, Lupin at least gets to go up to the top of the Astronomy Tower to clean telescope lenses, and Peter, the lucky git, gets to go into the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. It's really not fair. James would switch with any of them (especially Pete) faster than you can say Wingardium Leviosa.

But it's not really the detention he's angry about, or even the fact that the Marauders got caught sneaking into the Slytherin common room and transfiguring all the green and silver banners to read "Snivellus Snape is a slimy, sneaky, son of a bludger who is in dire need of a bath." No, the reason that James Potter is taking his aggression out on the poor, innocent trophy in front of him lies with a certain redhead. A certain redhead who is currently attacking a golden medallion with equally angry zeal. The animosity between the two of them is practically tangible, so much so that even Filch vacated the trophy room as quickly as he could after giving them their toothbrushes.

Lily is the one to break the silence, "I heard about your little stunt in the Slytherin dorms, Potter. I hope you realize that what you guys did to Sev was absolutely _vile_."

"You wound me, Evans," he spits back, gritting his teeth and polishing all the harder "Besides, I think you've lost whatever moral high ground you once had, don't you? What's little Miss Perfect doing in detention with a 'vile' miscreant like me, anyway?"

She doesn't miss a beat. "If you must know," she says loftily, moving on from the medal to begin work on a plaque, "They found out I was the one who charmed Mrs. Norris's fur to glow in the dark. Why do you think Filch left so quickly? He's trying to wash the charm out, but it will last for _at least _another month." She sounds almost pleased with herself.

"That was you?!" James can't believe his ears. The cat's newly neon nature had saved his and Sirius's rear ends on a late night raid of the kitchens just this past Tuesday, and the pair had sworn to find and thank whoever had been responsible for that early warning system.

"You don't have to sound so surprised. You act like you think this is my first detention or something." Lily still sounds annoyed with him, but there's something else – something like amusement? – bubbling up beneath the complete and utter detestation he's used to.

"It's not?" James turns away from the trophy to stare at her, "Who are you and what have you done to Evans?"

She laughs at the look on her face, and James is taken aback. She's... pretty, when she laughs. He never noticed that before, and for some reason, he feels his face grow hot and his stomach do a backflip, so he whirls around and reapplies himself to polishing that darn trophy before she notices that something's unmistakably wrong with him. Is he coming down with dragonpox? But that's ridiculous, he had his bout with dragonpox when he was seven.

"Good Godric, Potter," she's still chuckling, "I know I'm not _you _but this isn't my first detention by far. Let's see, there was the time Marlene and Mary and Lis and I broke curfew to transfigure one of the staircases into a giant slide, and we forgot to change it back afterwards. And the time Marlene dared me to paint gags onto all those rude portraits near the girls' loo so they'd stop wolf-whistling every time a girl walked by. And that charm I put on Binns's board so it draws silly cartoons behind his back while he's lecturing, so I can actually stay awake in his class. And the time -"

Evans is a lot, well, a lot _cooler _than he realized.

"Whoa, Evans, I had you pegged complete wrong. I thought you were some kind of goody-goody two-shoes," he admits, wondering why, exactly, his heart is pumping so loud, " I mean, it's understandable, isn't it, since you're always telling us off for every little thing."

Her laughter stops, and even with his back turned, he can _feel _her smile dissipate, "Just because I don't agree with _your _idea of fun doesn't mean I'm some teacher's pet. It means that I don't approve of bullies. Which is what you and your idiot friends are."

"We are not!" he protests, but the reflection in the silver of her green, green glaring eyes silences him. She turns around with a huff, and scrubs that plaque to an inch of its life.

James finishes the trophy and moves on to the next award, as he wonders how that conversation went rotten so fast. And at how, just for a moment, Evans seemed... fun. And nice. And stuff.

He blushes again, without knowing why.

Over the course of the night, James attempts half a dozen times to rekindle the connection he thought he felt, with feeble comments about the weather, and their Astronomy essay, and even how the Cleavers were doing this season, but Lily stubbornly continues ignoring him, leaving him to wonder why getting the silent treatment from a girl he hates hurts so much.

They finish their detention in silence.

It's not until detention is over and James is back in his dorm that he suddenly realizes that he's just fallen for Lily Evans. Bollocks. Sirius will never let him hear the end of it.

**A/N I think Lily wasn't a goody two shoes, not the way Hermione was in the first few books. Lily was vivacious and cheeky and well-liked. I like to think she got into her fair share of mischief, but never let fun get in the way of her sense of justice. Just my two cents. :)**


	3. Year Three

**Disclaimer: HP is JK Rowling's**

Year Three

_In which rumors spread like fiendfyre_

A balled-up scrap of parchment nails her squarely in the back of her drooping head. Lily, suddenly awake, whirls around, ponytail whipping around behind her.

Potter. He's sitting in the back of Binns's classroom, smirking like he's oh-so-proud of himself, the same smug grin she always wished she could punch off of his face after every victorious Quidditch match. He waves jauntily, to the amusement of his little band of friends.

Lily grits her teeth, rolls her eyes, and turns back to face the front.

"He likes you," Marlene sing-songs beneath her breath, half-smile playing on her lips.

"Then tell him to act like it, instead of beaning me with these stupid little paper balls," Lily hisses back, gesturing to the small mountain parchment scraps littering the ground around her desk.

"He_ is_ acting like it," Marlene's smirk is almost, almost as smug as Potter's, "Godric, Lily, he's a thirteen year old bloke, he's not about to flirt with your by buying you singing daffodils and chocolate frogs and taking you out to candlelit dinners."

"Thank Godric," Lily mutters darkly, "If he did bring me a bouquet, I'd shove it up his-"

"Yes, yes," Marlene says hastily, trying to disperse the cloud's gathering on her best friend's brow, "But he _is _flirting with you."

"How the Helga Hufflepuff does this constitute flirting?" Lily demands loudly, waking up half the class (the other half being far too deeply asleep) and earning herself an affronted _Really, Miss Elric?_from Binns.

The only thing her burning ears hear is the excited "D'you reckon it's finally working?" from the back of the room.

At that, something snaps inside of her and she stands and turns to face him. "IT IS BLOODY WELL NOT WORKING, POTTER,"she roars, "LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!"

The entire class is most decidedly awake now. Even Binns is staring at the pair of them, eyes completely lucid for once.

James, naturally, is thriving off being the center of attention."Now Evans," he chides, smiling that infuriating smile of his,"No need to lose your temper."

Marlene's hand on her elbow is the only thing stopping Lily from flying across the classroom and tearing that git to shreds.

"Really, we could have easily avoided this whole scene," he continues calmly, "If you'd just read even one of those notes I've been chucking at you all period."

Notes? Those annoying little parchment balls were _notes_?

"Note passing is strictly prohibited, Peterson, Ensley," Binns drifts over to where Lily is sitting, "I hope it's something you're willing to share with the entire class."

Lily feels the blood drain from her face, and she wishes very much that she knew how to cast a Disillusionment charm so she could blend in with the walls and disappear from sight. Potter, on the other hand, looks as bright and carefree as ever.

"'Course I don't mind, Professor Binns," he says cheerfully, "Evans, will you do the honors?"

She glares silently at him, and changes her wish. Instead of a Disillusionment charm, she wishes she knew a hex to shut Potter's big mouth up for good.

"Miss Everett." Binns has never sounded so intimidating to Lily before, "I'm going to have to ask you to read that note aloud."

Her heart drops somewhere to the approximate region of her kidneys as she bends over and picks up one of the many, many scraps of parchment. She smooths it out, and casts Binns one last pleading look.

His ghostly eyes hold no pity.

She swallows hard, shoots Potter a look filled with as much hatred as she can muster, and reads,

"Dear Evans,

Your eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad.

Your kiss is something I need.

You're simply divine, I wish you were mine,

So come with me to Hogsmeade!

Xoxo,

JP"

There are snickers from around the classroom, and Lily is aware that her face is the approximate color of her hair, and all she sees right now is red.

"Like _hell _I will, Potter," she hisses, humiliated to the verge of tears "I'd rather kiss a _Dementor _than you, and don't you _ever _forget it."

And with that, she leaves her books and her bag and sprints out of the room before anyone can tell that she's crying. James loses his cool, finally, along with his words as he tries to stutter something out, but she's already gone, running down the corridors to the safety and privacy of the Gryffindor girls' dorms. Later, Marlene and Mary and Elisabeth will be there to comfort her and tell her to buck up, it's a stupid _boy_, not the end of the world. Even later, Sirius and Remus and Peter will tell James almost the same thing. She's just a stupid, stupid girl who can't appreciate the wonder that is their best mate. It's not the end of the world.

Neither will believe their respective group of friends. After all it feels like the end of the world, for an entire week of giggles and pointed fingers in the hallways. They are the talk of the school, and not particularly in a good way.

Lily curses his name.

James goes back to the drawing board.

**A/N Is Lily overreacting? Maybe. But don't tell me you never blew anything out of proportion when you were thirteen. I know I did, just about every week, haha. **


	4. Year Four

**Disclaimer: HP is still not mine. **

Year Four

_In which secrets unravel and a seed of /something/ is planted_

"Lookit, mate," Sirius whispers to James as they enter the common room. It's past two AM, and the normally busting room is deserted. Well, practically deserted. There is one person still in the room, and she is the one that Sirius is pointing to with the hand that is not balancing the tray of treats from the kitchens.

Lily Evans, asleep on one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace, transfiguration textbook lying open on her lap, dark red hair fanning out behind her and catching the reflection of the flames, like a fiery halo.

"She does look rather nice, when she's not trying to bite your head off, James," Peter pipes up, carrying a humongous tankard of Butterbeer in both hands. Remus isn't with them tonight; it's the first night of the waning moon, so he's still in the hospital wing, recuperating. That's why the rest of the Marauders were in the kitchens this time: gathering rations for when they celebrate his return in the morning.

"Ah, shut it, Pete," James murmurs distractedly, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Evans. She looks so... peaceful. Defenseless. She never looks like that in her waking hours, at least not when she's near him, anyways.

"Now's a good chance, mate," Sirius winks at him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. James stomps on his foot – hard.

"Chivalry, man, chivalry," James admonishes

"I thought that was overrated!" Sirius pouts as James steps out from beneath the invisibility cloak and shoves his own tray of chocolate-y goodness into Sirius's other hand, resulting in an annoyed squawk from his best mate.

"I'll meet you guys in the dorm," James ignores the taunt. He can't see his two friends, obviously, but he can imagine the look they're sharing right now. He feels the air shift as they walk by him, and sees the doorway leading to the boys' dorms swing open and shut.

He pulls out his wand and taps one of the scraps of parchment left lying about the common room, and it transfigures into a large, fluffy quilt. He turns to drape it over the sleeping girl, and realizes that her eyes are wide-open, staring at him, luminescent and almost cat-like in the half darkness.

James yelps, and drops the quilt as his hands instinctively jump to his hair.

"Evening, Potter," she sounds amused, which he takes as a good sign.

"Evening, Evans," _Be cool, be cool, be cool_, he chants mentally as he lowers himself into the chair opposite her, "You wouldn't have been just pretending to be asleep this whole time, would you? Because if you were waiting to catch me alone so you could ask me to accompany you to the Hogsmeade next weekend, you could have just-"

"Not a chance, Potter," she throws a cushion at him, but he catches it handily. He hopes she appreciates his Seeker-quick reflexes.

If she does, the only sign of it is in her rolling eyes. But her lips are still curled slightly upward. He'll take what he can get.

"Well, if asking me on a date isn't why you waited for me to walk in, then what is?" he tries to keep his grin under control, but he's failing miserably and he doesn't care. Evans stayed up to talk to _him_. He feels like the luckiest wizard in Britain right now.

"I..." for the first time in a long time, she looks unsure. But then she steels herself, and nods a little as she makes up her mind to do what she came to do, "I wanted to thank you, actually, but I didn't want to have to deal with Black, and you're always with him, so I figured this was the best chance I'd get."

"What's wrong with Sirius?" James frowns, because this is his best mate they're talking about, and he won't let anyone – not even Evans – speak badly of him.

She arches one eyebrow, "I came here to thank you, not to quarrel, Potter. But just because he's _your _best friend doesn't give him the right to try to murder _mine._"

"Sirius wouldn't-" James begins, but catches himself, "Okay, fine. But really, he's like an overgrown puppy chewing on your favorite pair of slippers. He's a great big bundle of energy and not one whit malicious, Evans, which is more than you can say about _Snivellus..._"

He trails off as her eyes narrow dangerously, "I _said_, I came here to thank you, not to quarrel, Potter."

"Well, you're doing an absolutely brilliant job of it," he mutters, so she throws another cushion at him. But she's smiling now, however reluctantly, so it's a win in his books.

Lily takes a deep breath, "Thank you for saving Sev, Potter. I know you don't like him, obviously, but you saved him anyways. What you did was very... brave. And very... noble."

He blinks twice. Lily Evans just thanked him. Lily Evans just called him brave. Lily Evans thought he was the noblest wizard since Merlin's Camelot. Lily Evans just told him that he is her hero and asked him to kiss her. Well, okay, he's getting ahead of himself a bit. But still.

She looks at him as if she's expecting him to say something, anything, but he's momentarily lost his grasp on basic English, so she just grins and says, "Don't let it swell your head, Potter. If it gets any bigger, your broom won't be able to lift off the ground anymore, and then what'll happen to us in the Quiddith Cup finals?"

"Hey!" he says, because he knows an insult when he hears one, even if it's said teasingly. Then, a thought occurs to him, and it feels like all the happiness is draining out of the room, "Wait, no one's supposed to know about what happened. Was Snivellus the one who told you? That slimy little git _swore _he wouldn't tell anyone about -"

Lily cuts coolly across him, "_Severus _didn't tell me anything, Potter. He didn't get far enough down into the Shrieking Shack to see anything conclusive, anyway. That is, if you're referring to Remus's... little problem..."

"Little problem?" James is momentarily taken aback by the choice of words, but he likes the sound of it, "His furry little problem..." he muses, before snapping back into the present, "Wait, Evans, you know about-?"

"About his 'furry little problem'" she makes quotation marks in the air with her fingers, "Yes, Potter. I've known for almost a year now. I'm not completely _dense_, and I can see how he gets every month, just like you can."

His hazel eyes for once are completely serious, "Evans, listen, have you told anyone? Not everyone's as batty as the blokes and me, or as kind and open-minded as you are. If they knew about Remus..."

"I know," she is serious too, and it distantly occurs to her that this is the longest conversation she's ever held with Potter without feeling the urge to strangle him, "Remus is my friend too, Potter. I don't want to see him hurt. I don't want to see any of my friends get hurt, if I can stop it."

He nods in complete understanding, and something swells inside Lily at that moment. This is a side of Potter – serious and capable and caring – that she's never seen even an inkling of before. Maybe she has more in common with him than she thought.

She stands, abruptly, "You're still an arrogant toe-rag, Potter," she says with as much dignity as she can muster in her dressing gown, "but you can be a half-decent arrogant toe-rag, when you want."

"Does that mean you'll go to Hogsmea-"

"_No_," she interrupts him emphatically, not even bothering to turn around from her march to the girls' rooms.

He calls out from behind her, "Well, I had to at least try!"

She can't fight the half-smile inching its way up her face, "Go to bed, Potter."

His laughter is the last thing she hears before swinging the heavy wooden door shut behind her.

**A/N: I think Lily would have found out about Remus, because lycanthropy is an awfully big secret to keep from an awfully bright witch. Also, the way she just completely shuts Snape down and changes the subject when he brings up his "theory" seems to confirm that she is trying to protect Lupin. I also think that Lily had a strong enough sense of justice to approach James and thank him when Severus was obviously not about to, and that maybe she would realize that there was a *reason* she and James were both Gryffindors, that they had very similar cores. Just my thoughts.**

**Let me know how this chapter was! :)**


	5. Year Five

**Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter is not mine.**

Year Five

_In which Lily curses Potter five ways to hell (or wishes she knew a spell for that, anyway)_

It's over. Finally. This whole Godric-damned week of backstabbing and betrayal and severing friendships and _bloody_ _OWLs _on top of everything else is finally, finally over.

Marlene and Mary and Lis are in the dorm they share, packing away their things and chattering about their plans for the summer. Lily could join them, if she wanted to, but she's tired of the pity she catches in their eyes sometimes. They never understood what she saw in Sev, but they understand that their friend is hurting right now. The three of them all have the decency to refrain from saying _I told you so_, but they don't need to say it for it to be true. They did tell her so. She was just too stupid and stubborn to listen to common sense. The sweet boy she once knew – the one who told her about magic, and reassured her that she wasn't a _freak_, and promised that blood status didn't make any difference – is long gone.

No. He isn't gone, because he never truly existed. She had _seen _the way he treated Tuney, acting like she wasn't worth his attention or respect. She had _heard _the forced blankness in his voice when she introduced him to her parents, the summer after first year, the way he avoided the Evanses' house, though as Lily's little friend he was more than welcome there. She had _felt _the way he flinched whenever he brushed against a Muggle-born classmate in the halls, as if all Muggle-borns were infected by some fatal, contagious disease.

She just forced herself to ignore it all. Because she wasn't brave enough to stand up to her friend.

Curses, she's thinking about him again, despite the fact that she promised herself that she was going to cut him out of her heart and throw away whatever past they might have shared. He was just some kid she had known, once, a long time ago, when she was stupid and naïve. He's a Death Eater wannabe who she isn't going to waste any more tears and heartbreak and brain cells on.

Speaking of wasted brain cells, Potter and his friends descend from the boys' dorms to enter the common room, and she tries to squish herself lower in the chair, so they don't notice her. Part of her, a huge part of her, blames Potter _immensely_, though the rational part of her knows that isn't quite fair. Sooner or later, she and Sev (_Snape, _she corrects herself sternly, _Snivellus_) would have parted ways, and not on amiable terms. Their paths were irreconcilable; sooner or later, by the time they left Hogwarts and entered the real world, their friendship, or what was left of it, would have shattered apart.

But it's Potter's fault that the shattering came _sooner _rather than later. She fixes one burning glare at him, and is horrified to find that he turns around at the exact moment that she realizes that the burning in her eyes wasn't caused by the intensity of her hatred; it's caused by tears.

"Evans?" he sounds uncertain, for once in his bloody life. He takes a step towards her, but she raises her wand between them, not bothering to brush away the tears on her face. That would be pointless, now.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, "Or I _will _hex you."

"Hey now," Sirius begins to draw his own wand, but James's raised hand stops him.

"I deserved that," Potter visibly winces at what is the closest thing she's ever heard to an apology coming out of his mouth.

"Yes, you did," she scowls at him, wand still raised.

"Though, if you think about it," Potter continues, as if trying, however misguidedly, to assuage her fury, "It might have been for the better. I mean, really, Evans, I could have told you ages ago that Snivelly was no good. Sooner or later, he would have turned on you, because deep down, he hates all Muggle borns. He's up to his greasy hair in the Dark Arts. Just look at who he hangs around with! They get a kick out of hurting people, Evans, _really _hurting them, torturing and killing them, not just the kid stuff the boys and I do, not things that can be fixed with a good night's sleep and a trip to Madame Pomfrey. So really, isn't it good that you realized that he's rotten, rotten to the core, before he hexed you in the back and delivered you straight to You-Know-Who?"

He's not saying anything she hasn't thought of herself, but hearing it in his voice makes something crack inside her. She's on her feet before she realizes it.

"Out!" she shrieks, though she knows she has no right to order him out of the common room, "Get out, get out, get OUT!"

And then she's hurling a mixture of Muggle and real curses at the four of them, with a ferocity that scares even herself. The other Gryffindors in the common room dive for cover behind the couches and chairs, and the Marauders sprint as fast as they can for the Fat Lady's portrait. Her aim is compromised by her anger, which is probably for the better. As the four boys leap through the portal hole and to safety, Lily turns to glare defiantly at everyone cowering and staring at her.

"He deserved that," she says fiercely, wiping her face, "That and worse."

Then she throws back her shoulders and fairly _glides _out of the room, regal as any queen.

That is the last day Lily cries over Severus.

**A/N Not sure how I feel about this chapter. **


	6. Year Six

**Disclaimer: HP is still not mine**

Year Six

_In which they begin to begin again_

Professor Mundin is standing at the front of the class, mumbling something to himself about Dementors. James doesn't bother to hide his yawn as he shares a pointed look with Sirius. It's not Mundin's fault, not really; it's the man's first year as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and all his sixth-years (all of them who read the Prophet, or who don't live underneath a rock, anyways) know what Dementors are and what they do. Most of the students, however, are hanging off of Mundin's every word, which is atypical, but James understands why. There are rumors swirling around of Dementors defecting from Azkaban, and everyone wants to know how to defend themselves from the harbingers of fear.

Evans, James notices, is chief among them, gripping her quill extremely tightly as she takes copious notes. Her lips are pursed pale and thin, and she keeps nervously tucking a strand of hair behind one ear...

Suddenly, Remus is subtly elbowing him in the stomach, as the class rises and Mundin levitates the desks to fly to the sides of the room.

"What's going on?" James whispers, because he hasn't been paying attention (not to Mundin, anyways. Rather, to Evans, and the worried frown between her eyebrows, the uneasy set of her jaw...).

"Practical application," Remus murmurs back, pulling his wand out from his robes. James grabs his, too, " The incantation is Expecto Patronum. Oh, and think happy thoughts."

Happy thoughts? James looks over, somewhat skeptically, at Sirius, who is already grinning like a mad dog.

"Expecto Patronum!" his best mate fairly roars, and a giant, silvery dog comes blasting out of the tip of his wand, to romp around the room.

Mundin falls over himself praising Sirius on his ability to produce a corporeal Patronus on his very first try.

"It was easy," Sirius says loudly, "Just had to remember the look on my dear old mum's face when she tried to take down the raunchy posters I have Permanently Stuck to my wall." He mimics the look of extreme horror, to the great amusement of most of the class.

James can't let his best mate show him up in such a spectacular way, now can he? He closes his eyes, and remembers the way he felt when he scored the final goal in the last Quidditch match against Slytherin The Quaffle had went in at the exact second that that git Regulus caught the Snitch, leading to a Gryffindor victory by a exactly 10 points. The remembered excitement, the adrenaline, the pure, unbridled joy fill him up to the very top, and before he even has to form the words, a silvery stag is prancing around the classroom.

Mundin practically wets himself in excitement at a non-verbal Patronum Charm, and James sneaks a glance over at Evans across the room, to see if she noticed. But her eyes are closed, and she seems to be concentrating very hard.

He knows, before she even says the words, that this will be easy for her. Charms are her specialty, after all, and she's _Evans_. She's always so full of kindness and joy, practically floating on it, always looking on the bright side (except when she's dealing with him. But he's a special case, and part of him very much enjoys being the one creature in the universe who can make Evans lose her cool). Conjuring a spell of concentrated happiness and protection, an anti-Dementor, will be a piece of pie for her.

What he doesn't expect is the form that her Patronus will take. His jaw drops to the floor as he sees a doe join the stag on the frolic about the room, and he dares a glance at her. Her eyebrows are retreating so far back on the forehead, they're practically past her hairline, but other than that, her face is unreadable.

Her friends, though, are tittering and giggling as they whisper to each behind cupped palms. James looks at Sirius (whose grin is more like a wolf's than like a dog's), at Remus (who smiles, but shrugs silently), and at Peter (who doesn't seem to understand the implications that James and Lily have perfectly, perfectly compatible patronuses).

Mundin gapes, but stays silent, and their twin patronuses slowly dissolve.

James is in a daze for the rest of the period, thinking over what just happened, and how he ought to approach Evans over the discovery that they could very possibly be _soul mates_. But today is just full of surprises: as he is absent-mindedly leaving class, being steered out the door by his mates, she is calls out his name.

"Oi, Potter," she is striding purposefully towards him, face still impassive, and he is out of time.

"What's up, Evans?" he leans against one of the stone walls of the castle, a lounging pose he's seen Sirius pull off a thousand times. Sirius snorts a little, and proceeds to try to pass it off as a cough when Remus steps on his foot.

James doesn't think the pose is working on Evans; she's not melting into a puddle the way all the witches do around Sirius, though he's not sure if it's because Evans is made of sterner stuff than that, or if he's simply not as attractive as his best mate. It's probably the former. James _knows_ he's very desirable.

Her mouth is twitching with something that may be a smile though. "I just needed to check something," she's definitely grinning now, but her voice is dead pan,"Your patronus. I didn't get a really good look at it. Marlene says it was a stag, but I say it was a goat. Which was it?"

She glides away before he can form a coherent response.

"A _goat_?" he splutters at the head of red hair flouncing away from him, "How could you mistake that for a _goat?_"

Her laughter ringing out is his only answer.

But as James Potter walks away, he finds himself smiling too. He thinks he knows _exactly _what memory he'll be using the next time he needs to conjure a Patronus.


	7. Year Seven, Part One

**Disclaimer: I've written seven chapters. JKR has written seven books. If you recognize it, it's hers.**

Year Seven, Part One

_In which heads shrink and plans brew_

They're sitting at a table in the library, planning out this year's Yuletide festivities in whispers, so as not to attract the scorn of Madame Pince. As Head Boy and Girl, the two of them are in charge of orchestrating the efforts of the prefects, professors, and Hagrid to ensure that this the is best. Christmas. Ever.

James is gushing on about the possibility of altering the charm on the ceiling in the Great Hall to make it actually snow rather than just reveal the outside weather, and then transfigure the falling snow into candies, or Christmas crackers, or tiny presents, right before the flakes touch the tables or the students. He's even pulled out a scrap of parchment and a quill and began the complicated Transfiguration equations to ensure that the enchanted snow doesn't explode rather than transfigure, and to figure out the intensely complex timing of it all.

Lily is only half-listening. These are the times when it is crystal clear to her why Dumbledore picked Potter to be Head Boy. Not because his is the cleanest of track records (it's not, not by a long shot) but because he is a testament to the power of creative thinking and enthusiasm and a sincere desire to exceed all expectations, all of which are more important, she knows, than a dearth of detentions. The fact that he is an immensely talented wizard doesn't hurt, either.

Not that Lily couldn't figure out the spells necessary on her own. She's a powerful witch too. Powerful enough for You-Know-Who to attempt to recruit her, despite her blood status...

But she shakes away the thoughts of those dark promises (_lies) _whispered in the hazy space between dreaming and awake. She doesn't want to think on them now.

"... right, Evans?" Potter is looking at her expectantly, waiting for a response, "What do you think?"

"I... wha..." she is caught off guard, and curses, not for the first time, her skin's coloring as she turns the approximate hue of a tomato, "Sorry, Potter, what were you saying?"

His hazel eyes deepen with something like concern, "You alright, Evans? It's not like you to get distracted like this. You really haven't been yourself lately."

She knows exactly when _lately _began: eight days ago, with an intrusion into her dreams and the proof of their reality in the tiny, glowing Mark hovering outside her window, just like her not-just-a-dream had promised. She just hadn't realized that she'd been so obvious in her distraction.

"I... sorry, Potter," she has no real excuse, none that she can share with him, or with anyone else, anyways, "I've just... had too much to think on, lately."

To her surprise, he just nods sagely, tiredly, as if he understands exactly. He can't though. This is a burden she carries alone.

He stands abruptly, "I need to ask you something. Let's get out of here, Evans."

"Wha-" it feels like all she's been able to do during this planning session is manage little half-syllables of questions and excuses. But she really doesn't understand why they need to leave the library for Potter to talk to her. Hasn't he been talking to her for the past half hour?

He waves his wand, and their bags pack themselves and levitate, zooming off through the air, presumably to the Gryffindor dormitories. Madame Pince gives him a death glare when Potter's satchel nearly collides with her head. He doesn't even crack a smile, though he normally would be mouthing off some charming, cheeky excuse that would have even the stern librarian fighting down a smile. Instead, he grabs Lily by the wrist and pulls her up from her seat.

'Come on now," his tone is light, but something in his facial expression, his eyes, makes Lily follow without question.

She really must be more tired than even she realized, if she's not protesting being led through the halls like she isn't capable of walking on her own. Normally, she'd be digging her heels in and demanding to know where he's taking her and what exactly is going on, Potter, but right now, it's taking all she has just to keep up with his long strides. She doesn't even shake his hand –large, and warm, and calloused from being Quidditch captain on top of Head Boy – from her wrist.

She does pause, however, as they approach the huge doors leading out of the castle and onto the grounds. Finally, she finds the voice and will to protest.

"You do realize that there's a blizzard outside, right Potter?"

"Exactly the reason we're heading out there, Evans."

"Are you off your rocker?"

"'Fraid not. I'll explain soon, promise."

Something, she can't put her finger on it, but _something _in his voice, and the steady broadness of his back directly in front of her, and the gentleness of his fingers on her arm, makes her trust him. _Just this once_, she tells herself. She draws her wand with her free hand as they step out into the roaring cold, and she casts an extended Bubble-Head Charm, so that it covers not just their heads, but an entire bubble of space around them, insulating them from the wind and the wet and the wicked, wicked cold.

"You better have a bloody _spectacular _explanation for this, Potter," she informs him as they trudge through the snow on the ground, into a whiteness so complete that she can't see anything besides Potter's back in front of her.

"We just need to go somewhere where there's not a chance that anyone will overhear us," Potter yells back; the wind is getting louder and louder, even if they can't feel its bite thanks to Lily's charm.

"You mean no one but you is bonkers enough to go outside in the middle of a blizzard?" she yells back.

"Pretty much," he comes to a stop, and lets go of her wrist. Her forearm suddenly feels strangely cold, and she compensates by crossing both her arms, tight. He turns to face her, muttering a spell to make the noise outside their little bubble reside to a dull moan rather than a piercing howl.

"Listen, Evans," Potter begins, "I need to ask you a favor."

"A favor so important, you had to drag me into the middle of a blizzard to ask it," she nods along, smiling a bit, because this little adventure is a welcome change from the dark paths her thoughts have been treading for a week.

He's not smiling, though, not even at her half-jest. "Exactly," he says, and takes a deep breath, "You know about the Hogsmeade trip this weekend-"

She interrupts, uncrossing her arms enough to point her wand at him, "Potter, if you brought me all the way out here to ask me on a date, I will not hesitate to hex you and leave you all alone here in the middle of a blizzard, so help me Godric-"

"No, no!" he raises his arms as if that could ward off a curse, "I'm asking you the _opposite,_ Evans. I'm asking you to skip the trip, stay in the castle that weekend instead."

Her heartbeat stutters to a stop. This must be some sick, twisted coincidence. He can't possibly know about the instructions she received regarding the next Hogsmeade trip...

Fighting to sound calm and unconcerned, she says, "And why would I want to do that?"

He drops her gaze, "I can't answer that," he says to the ground, "Please, just trust me, Evans."

"Give me something I can put some trust in, then," she demands, wand still raised threateningly, "Some reason or explanation, Potter."

"I _can't_!" he bellows suddenly, snapping like a rubber band under too much prolonged strain. She flinches back, surprised. In their seven years of constant bickering and occasional cooperation, Potter has never raised his voice to her like that, "Don't you understand, Evans? If I tell you, he'll kill you all!"

Potter claps his one hand over his mouth, and wishes fervently that he could take back those last words. Evans is bright, more than bright enough to piece the rest of it together from there.

"He?" she asks softly, with a kind of perverse need to hear confirmation of an answer she already knows, "You-Know-Who's trying to recruit you too, then?"

"Evans, please just forget-" James begins, but stops when her words register, "Wait, what do you mean 'too'? He's asking you to join them? But you're a-"

"A Mudblood?" she says it matter of factly. She's past letting words with no power hurt her.

"Muggle-Born," he corrects her fiercely, grabbing her by the shoulders, "There is _nothing_ dirty about you."

She's touched, but tries not to show it. Instead, she shrugs his hands off her arms and looks away, recrossing her arms, "Well, regardless, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named decided that since I'm _so _talented, he's willing to overlook my birth. Actually, the argument was that there's no way I could really be a Muggle-Born, since all Muggle-borns are rubbish witches, and I'm not, so I must've been adopted at birth or something. He's even willing to spare my family if I join him, in gratitude for raising such a talented witch-child who wasn't their own. Generous bloke, isn't he?"

She doesn't bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She sneaks a peek at Potter; there's a muscle twitching angrily in his jaw, and his hands are clenched in fists.

"That bastard," he hisses, more to himself than to her.

"Anyway," she continues all in a rush, because she's been damming up all these feeling and worries for a week, and she can't stop them from flooding out now that she's started, "Last Thursday, just as I was beginning to fall asleep, I heard this terrible voice – slimy and smooth and so, so cold– telling me to "Join the Dark Lord" who was "merciful" enough to look past my Muggle upbringing," she makes a face here, "And to give my answer at the Hog's Head during the next Hogsmeade weekend, and not to tell anyone, or else they'd go after my parents. When I woke up, there was a tiny little Dark Mark hovering right outside my window so I'd know it wasn't just a nightmare. That means there's a Death Eater here in Hogwarts, Potter. A student."

That had been the worst part of it, really, aside from the threats against her family: the not knowing which of her school mates it was who was helping Voldemort threaten and terrify her. She'd taken a habit of casting furtive, searching glances at the Slytherins who were or were nearly of age, wondering which ones of them hid Dark Marks beneath the long sleeves of their robes.

(_Not Severus, not Severus, please not – _but she wasn't thinking about him anymore, remember?)

It feels good to finally be able to share this with someone. She couldn't tell her parents, because they wouldn't understand, and they're the ones least able to protect themselves. She couldn't tell Tuney, not that her elder sister would want to know or would be able to comprehend a word of it over the haze of marital bliss she'd been in since she married the walrus (_Vernon_, she reminds herself vaguely, _or was it Vincent?_) last June. She couldn't confide in any of her friends, without exposing them and their families to danger, and that's the very last thing she wanted.

She finds, with a start, that she's been counting Potter on that list of friends.

His eyes are significantly less stormy than they'd been before; he's calmer now, and she's glad for that. Calm means that he's not about to do anything rash and stupid.

"Same thing happened here," he says finally, hoarsely, "Only he threatened to go after Sirius and Remus and Pete and you, and instead of a Mark appearing outside of my window, I got an owl in the morning saying that my mum had seen a Mark outside my folks' place. You-Know-Who's charming little way of letting me know that my hands are tied, as it were."

His face twists into this painful little perversity of a grin, and Lily, before she even realizes it, places a hand on his shoulder.

"He won't get away with this," she says fiercely, but the hateful, rational part of her reminds her that she's just a witch barely of age, still in school, and _he _is the most powerful Dark Wizard who ever terrorized the earth.

But Potter just smiles, weakly but genuinely, and reaches up to squeeze her hand. She doesn't flinch away.

A thought suddenly strikes her as he does that, and it's ridiculous and now is _definitely_ not the time, but her heart is suddenly pounding in her ears and she is filled with this burning need to hear it in his voice. To know for sure.

"Potter," she tries to sound casual, fights to keep her voice steady, "Just... just out of curiosity. Why did You-Know-Who threaten me? I mean, I get that he threatened the rest of the Marauders, they're practically your brothers. But... why me?"

Potter blushes. This is the very first time in their seven years of acquaintance that Lily has ever seen Potter flush the way she does.

"Because I'm in love with you?" he suggests, stating it like it should be something obvious.

"I thought that was just a silly crush," she whispers, for some ridiculous reason feeling like she could float away to the moon right now, or perhaps shatter into a million silvery specks of stardust, "A kid thing."

He laughs, at that, not derisively, but in genuine amusement, "Merlin, no. It's never been a kid thing for me, Lily. _Never_."

Her heart is in her throat, and her hand on his shoulder drops down to her side. She has this urge to throw her arms around him but now is not the time. Her mind is whirring just as sure as her heart is thumping, and she needs a way, any way, to make sure that both of them survive this Hogsmeade trip.

Just this morning, her master plan had been to go to the Hog's Head, tell the Death Eaters there to tell Voldemort that she would never, _ever _join him, and resign herself to being Avada Kedavra'ed right there and just hope that with her dead, the Dark Lord would see no reason to especially target her friends or family. Somehow, she just knows that Potter was planning the same thing. But for some irrational reason, the thought of letting herself throw away her life – letting _him _throw away his life – seems unspeakably painful now that she knows. Knows that he loves her.

She thinks she has a plan.

Lily takes a deep breath. "James," she asks, looking directly into his hazel eyes, "Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?"

**A/N: This turned out much longer than I expected, haha. Lily, taking initiative and finally asking ****_James _****on a date? (well, as much of a date as it can be when there are Death Eaters and death threats involved). Talk about role reversal. :P **


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